Of Sands Never Seen
by Absol24
Summary: Mi'liah always talked of her childhood home; Elsweyr. Describing the singing dunes and lush forests, so when Saar'ji finally gets a chance to leave home; that's where she heads. But it seems someone got herself into the wrong cell in a certain Imperial prison before she ever gets close... TES:4 Oblivion. OC Involved. Follows main quest, Dark Brotherhood, and some of my own plot.


I felt my hands brush up against the wooden bow, mindful of the claws as my other hand gingerly pulled back the drawstring. My eyes locked onto my target; a rather small buck with antlers just beginning to branch out. His feathery brown fur shook with apprehension as he got a whiff of my scent despite my efforts to get lower than him. I released my hold on the string and sent the finely honed steel tipped arrow into him, lodging it in his throat as he tried to sprint away.

The deer fumbled with his legs before collapsing on the soft grass below. I gasped for air, not realizing I'd been holding it in, before brushing back my oily black hair, tucking it into the traditional Khajiit style. It always gets a bit worse looking the longer my hunting trips last. It's not like anyone else was bringing home the bacon. I grunted and stood up from my rather uncomfortable position.

Kneeling in the middle of underbrush isn't very comfortable you know?

I barely contained a sigh as the rush of adrenaline that had kept me going for the last two days wore off. The deed was done.

As I walked over to the deceased creature my thoughts returned to home. This snowy pine forest was certainly beautiful, but it was late winter now; meaning its once bountiful harvest has dwindled to little more than a trickle where once there was a river.

Despite the cold fate that awaits everyone born of Skyrim, they learn how to survive for the longest time; to provide for themselves or their families. Noone ever taught me any of this. I had to scrape out a living amongst the snow by myself, with certainly no help from my parents. My father was a deadbeat, and never taught me any tricks on how to hunt, like my friend Kjald said fathers here in Skyrim are supposed to. He was never home, and once he couldn't get his skooma from the occasional dealer that stopped by, and got bored of hitting my sister and I, he took off never to be seen again. I hated skooma, I didn't even want to try any when I finally grew old enough to really understand what it changed in him. Moon sugar is another thing entirely though, it clears your head and tastes rather sweet, I've come to enjoy it a little; though of course, Mother didn't give it to us unless we were heading into the mountains or northern provinces. Speaking of her, mother was the one that really held our little family together. She knew many of the household chores like cooking, sewing, gardening and so forth, but still she offered very little help in the art of the hunt. She had long downy fur of an almost maroon shade of brown, speckled like a northern sabrecat with lighter splotches. Her voice never raised at us or anyone else; or it used to be like that. A year or so ago this patrol of guards came by, looking for some silly assassin that apparently killed a local farmer, naturally, they came to our little shack by the main road. We lived almost an hours walk away from Falkreath (where those guards came from, I deducted by their uniforms) so I don't know why they thought it was necessary to come bother us. Mi'liah, my mother, picked up on exactly what I was thinking and voiced it much louder than they thought she should; she never walked again.

I was trying to sleep at the time, curled up in my bear skin blanket in the second story of my little wooden cabin, my younger sister Kaj'o curled up in the bedroll next to mine. Her grey fur barely visible in the dim light. I awoke with a start as I heard the door creak open and hushed voices below.

I reached for the mammoth tusk dagger beside me, only to find I had somehow shoved it away in the fits of sleep. I put away thoughts of it being bandits as I noticed the voices get louder, finally recognizing my mother's distinctive tone, but was surprised and frightened when she finally took to yelling at them. She never yelled! I was terrified beyond my wits, and contracted my pupils to find the ivory dagger, I noticed it stuck under a chair and I lunged for it; gripping it in my hand with the precision that comes from hours and hours of hunting.

Kaj'o had woken up shortly after I did, and as I stumbled over her in my attempt to reach the door she grabbed my ankle and gave me a stern look.

I was ready to pounce on whoever dared come here at such an hour and intrude; why must she stop me?

As if sensing my inner turmoil, her grip tightened and I reluctantly stood still and waited. I hated when she tried to hold such power over me, but managed to do so anyway. I preferred to take action as soon as I knew what I was dealing with, rather than hang back and scavenge what I can.

Mother continued to have an argument with whomever it was at the door. Male by the sound of it; probably Imperial or maybe Nord. Suddenly there was a loud thump and the door slammed closed. Kaj'o silently insisted I stay a few more minutes, but I had to know. I shook off her grip and rushed down the stairs.

I don't remember much else about that night. Just a lot of frantic gathering of water and rags, and Kaj'o skulking about in the background, useless.

She knew her way around a crowded street with gold on her mind, but that's where it ended. She was always a bit sedimentary, never really wanted to hurt anyone, and altogether just wanted an easy life; nothing more.

In the time since then I've gained a bit of her silence, so when I walk around I radiate a calm and collected aura, yet mysterious enough to scrape a bit of street cred' in the occasional visits to towns. I was still a violent sort though, ready to snap if pushed too far. I spend days away from the house trying not only to bring home what little meat I can gather, but meditating over what I really wanted to do with my life.

I broke out of my thoughtful stupor as a crinkling sound made me acutely aware that I was being watched. I instinctively reached for my ivory dagger, before a Nord boy about my age stepped out. I suppressed a snort of laughter as I recognized Kjald. He was always trying to sneak up on me when I was busy. He was a stout thing, a few inches shorter than I was despite him being older. Not to mention the fact that I and most others of my kind are consistently smaller than the rest of the human and mer populace. His sun baked blonde hair hung disheveled as usual, his stubble of a beard was obviously cut recently; but it still looked horrible. He certainly did have a lot of hair though, whether this is because of the cold or not, we had a running joke about him being as beautiful as I was if he let it grow out.

The fur armor Kjald wore looking just as rugged and half assed as it did anyway.

"Sar'ji sees you have been sneaking yes? Still too noisy," I said to him, looking a little smug, "balance." I finished as he gave a chuckle back.

"And I see you've caught something for once?" He asked teasingly, looking over the small buck I had shot and was now dragging back to my cabin.

"Yes. I have no time for games, shoo." I responded, becoming a bit more serious as his intended-to-be-playful comment jabbed me in a place I didn't want to be prodded.

It's not like I had as much time to practice as he has.

I never really bothered to ask what drew him out into the forest, and whenever out short conversings happened to wander in that direction, he always left or changed the subject.

What does it matter to me anyway? I was happy where I was, no need to pry.

I felt my whiskers twitch a bit with the change in the wind, and I turned away from him to continue dragging the carcass along. One thing I always considered strange was how interested he seemed whenever I caught something. Jealous, I would say! But something was always... Off about him. The scent that lingered around him was foul, reminiscent of the wolves of this forest yet still essentially human. If I didn't know better, I might say he was a werewolf! But such things are... Well. An open mind will get you farther then a closed one anyway.

When I started getting closer to the house I pulled off a feat of strength for someone of my build, hoisting the deer over my shoulders as I lumbered in through the door.

Mi'liah was sitting in her favorite chair, the one besides the only window in the room as I looked about. She smiled at me and I beamed back at her, a common gesture amongst our family; one of both welcoming and the joy of a fresh hunt.

I grunted unhappily at Kaj'o as she fell asleep while sitting next to me, her head resting on my shoulder, legs crisscrossed. I was relieved at returning from the hunt, but I was starving and the venison had not yet finished cooking. Mother stressed th importance of how we, Khajiit, prepare our food. Many spices, and slow cooking with nibbles of snacks while waiting; but we had no such snacks, only the meat I gathered and the meager amount of vegetables Mi'liah grew. A snow storm was raging outside, it's freezing claws scraping along the outer walls. I had lit the fire in the cobblestone mantle we had, taking a note to collect more stones as I looked upon how shabby it started to appear. I sat down in front of the fireplace, warming my feet. Kaj'o ever so silently snuck up to me, settling on my right. She crossed her legs and looked into the fire, thoughtful. "Saar'ji?" She asked with her head down and ears slightly back.

"Yes?" I responded, looking over to her.

"You are too old to be home. Too, too old," Kaj'o said bluntly, with the finesse of a raging bear, "You plan to leave us, no?"

It was disheartening, but it was true. As is custom, when all Khajiit reach the age of nineteen they are expected to leave. I was twenty two. I had an obligation to my family, even more so after the incident with the guards, as Mother couldn't leave the house with her paralyzed lower body. I was the only one making enough money now-a-days, and Kaj'o knew this. I sighed aloud, considering my response.

"Fusozay," I muttered, the equivalent of 'no worries', pulling my arm around her side and holding her close, "Not yet little cub."

She was but sixteen, and I could never see her as anything but my little sister. A kitten in the eyes of a sabrecat. She could protect herself, so I felt no worries about her safety, but everyone needed a hand to hold sometimes.

She had eventually fallen asleep against me as I occasionally muttered soft assurances, staring into the burning fire, my mind suddenly clouding over.

What was I going to do when I did leave? Where would I go? I was a decent hunter and literate, but I honestly didn't have many skills. I was always bested in the little tests of mettle Kjald had, much preferring to stick to stealth rather than fight fair. It was easier, and the spoils more rewarding.

Stealth isn't very appreciated anymore; and with good reason. It was a favorite skill of both thieves and assassins, neither of which are symbols of trust. So far, however, Kaj'o has hammered into me how to use stealth to my advantage, and If the time came that I needed to face a real enemy, I would use it to its fullest potential.

At some point I must have fallen asleep, for I awoke to the smell of roasted venison and the pinkish light of dawn filling the little wooden room. I pulled at the loose Budi and leather pants that I wore, feeling uncomfortable. I seemed to have woken Kaj'o as she stirred and sat up straighter.

I drowsily pulled myself together and stood, tottering over to Mother sitting in a chair besides the pit of hot coals she was using to roast the venison collected last night, and some garlic and leeks as well. I never much had the taste for vegetables, but garlic is one of my guilty pleasures. Can't say everyone else enjoys it quite as I do, heh.

Mi'Liah pulled at my ear as I leaned over her chair to smell the roasting meat, she looked at me, muttering "Get dressed." I gave a smile and playfully patted her hand away before backing up and walking over to the spiral staircase, climbing its steps as I had done for many years. The upper floor of our house was just a single room with the chimney from the mantleplace continuing up, radiating a comforting warmth throughout the room. I trotted over to a dresser with a slightly cracked mirror, examining myself as I ran a hand through my disgustingly disheveled hair. Not that I much cared, but the worse your hair got the more it became a symbol that you're running on adrenaline and need to finish whatever you're doing up quick.

I would have to go out to bathe after breakfast.

I looked at the grey furred Khajiit glaring back at me from the mirror, her black markings showing nothing unusual, just the typical cat like patterns with a litle of white thrown into the mix as well as black.

She didn't look like me. But I suppose the world is just like a deer. Take it by surprise; you can succeed. Expose yourself and the chances are gone, the deer leaving you in the dust.

I've been doing nothing but exposing myself as I worked day in and day out trying to keep us alive. I was lucky Mother managed to keep everything else in a reasonable fashion.

I don't think I would know how to properly clean things or how to brush your fur to get the stickers out if not for her. Heh. I guess I've always been more practical than both Mi'liah and Kaj'o; I never much cared for what everyone else thought of me as long as they didn't chase me out of town.

I pulled a comb out of the bottom left drawer in the dresser, feeling its carved wooden points as I ran it through my fur, pulling out the biggest knots and tangles, but by the time I was done it still looked a little messy. I gave a snort of discontent before deciding it was good enough. I haphazardly threw the comb on the dresser as I sprinted away and down the stairs. As I jumped into the little kitchen we had I immediately noticed Mother sitting at the dining table, waiting for me. She looked a little downcast.

I sighed; I knew that look. Something big was going down. I couldn't bring myself to sit, only to stare. "Saar'ji...we're moving," Mother said, keeping her head slightly down, "to...Riften."

All I could connect was that Kaj'o knew. She knew Mi'liah would bring this up, and instead of being direct about it she tried to get any measure of comfort she could; because she knew. She just knew that I could never bring myself to live in that cramped little city. I had made this quite clear when we once traveled there to attend my aunt's wedding. I loved the layout of the city, but even that, being some ten years ago, it was starting to rot. People were always looking over their shoulders and jumping at sounds, being rude to just about everyone; and in general just didn't look comfortable there. Most of them worked at the fishery too, or in trading with the boats that came in through the canal. Neither of which I wanted to do.

But I had promised Kaj'o that I wouldn't leave them, at least not yet! I growled deep in my throat, torn between keeping my word and getting ahead while the going was good. I collapsed into a chair and mumbled an upset, "Fine."

Kaj'o lightened immediately, nudging my shoulder before siting down at her own chair, and scarfing down the meal before her.

I was far too hungry to not follow her lead, and so with an only slightly heavy heart.


End file.
